Jimmie Lee Griffith

Age 28

One of seven children from a crowded but happy home

Sturgis, Mississippi

September 24, 1965

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Jimmie Lee Griffith grew up in central Mississippi, one of seven children in a home his relatives described as crowded but happy. By 1965, Griffith, then 28, had separated from his wife, with whom he had a young daughter, and was working for a lumber company in the small town of Sturgis, Mississippi, according to a Department of Justice memo. 

That year, on a Friday evening in early autumn, Griffith met with a friend in neighboring Starkville to drink and play dice. He got a ride back to Sturgis, where he stopped at another friend’s house for a short visit before deciding to walk home. The DOJ memo says Griffith left on foot around 8 p.m., alone and drunk — the last time he was seen alive. His body was soon discovered on a nearby highway, mangled and lying some distance from his clothing.

Initial Investigation

The Oktibbeha County Sheriff’s Office responded to the scene and opened an investigation, gathering evidence and photographs. Although no autopsy was performed, a doctor examined Griffith’s body by the highway. Griffith had skid marks and burns on his chest, multiple broken bones and a 5-inch-long cut to the bone of his left thigh near his groin — apparently made by a “sharp instrument,” according to the DOJ memo. The doctor concluded that Griffith had died of a head injury, and that his wounds, which he said were unusual for a hit-and-run accident, indicated someone had backed over Griffith’s body with a car.

The sheriff’s office interviewed about 30 people and conducted polygraph tests of possible suspects, local media reported at the time. A person who drove Griffith from Starkville to Sturgis said Griffith had argued with someone while in the backseat, leading to a “knifing” that the DOJ memo said could explain the cut to Griffith’s thigh.

Relatives also said Griffith was a key witness in a case that was nearing trial, involving a fatal car crash. Earlier that year, Griffith had been driving with a friend when they were hit head-on by two white men in a logging truck, killing Griffith’s friend. After Griffith’s death, the sheriff’s office questioned one of the white men, who said he had been at home the night Griffith died and denied involvement in his death.

The sheriff’s office sent its evidence for analysis to the FBI, which opened its own investigation in 1966, at the request of the U.S. assistant attorney general for civil rights. The FBI reviewed the state investigation and conducted new interviews, including with the white man who had been involved in the earlier fatal car crash.

The man repeated what he had told the sheriff’s office, adding he knew the accident would be litigated and that he had tried to talk to Griffith, whom he said he had known his whole life, to find out what Griffith might say in court. The man denied ever threatening Griffith or trying to influence his testimony, although he did say he had told his wife that he expected to become a suspect in Griffith’s death.

The FBI also looked into a claim that Griffith had been part of a love triangle and confirmed he hadn’t been active in civil rights work. Neither the state nor the FBI ultimately was able to confirm any suspects, eyewitnesses or motive, although both investigations indicated Griffith had been the victim of an intentional hit-and-run.

Till Act Status

The FBI reopened its investigation in 2008, under the Emmett Till Unsolved Civil Rights Crime Act. The bureau received a redacted version of its own investigation from the Southern Poverty Law Center but failed to find the original, unredacted file. The Oktibbeha County Sheriff’s Office had not maintained records about Griffith’s death. 

Through interviews, the FBI uncovered new details about the possible motives investigated in 1966, as well as rumors that Griffith had been killed over a gambling debt. During one interview in 2011, the FBI learned that a night watchman at the lumber company where Griffith worked had said he ran over Griffith’s body as it lay in the road, and that it was unclear whether Griffith was still alive at the time. 

Without living suspects or witnesses, and with the relevant statute of limitations expired, the Department of Justice closed the case again in 2012. 

About the Project

This multiplatform investigation draws upon more than two years of reporting, thousands of documents and dozens of first-hand interviews. FRONTLINE spoke to family and friends of the victims, and witnesses, some of whom had never been interviewed; current and former Justice Department officials and FBI agents, state and local law enforcement; lawmakers, civil-rights leaders and investigative journalists, to explore the Department of Justice’s reopening of civil rights-era cold cases under the 2008 Emmett Till Unsolved Civil Rights Crime Act.

In addition to an examination of the federal effort, the project features the first comprehensive, interactive list of all those whose cases were reopened by the Department of Justice. Today, the list stands at 151 names. Among the victims: voting rights advocates, veterans, Louisville’s first female prosecutor, business owners, mothers, fathers, and children.

The project consists of a web-based interactive experience, serialized podcast, a touring augmented-reality exhibit, documentary and companion education curriculum for high schools and universities.

A project like Un(re)solved would not be possible without the historic and contemporary contributions of universities, civil rights groups, and the press, particularly the Black press, who have ensured the ongoing public record of racist violence in the United States. To pay homage to these groups, the web interactive begins with a quote from journalist, activist and researcher Ida B. Wells, one of the first to document with precision the horrors of racial terror in America. “The way to right wrongs,” she wrote, “is to turn the light of truth upon them.”

At the outset of the project, FRONTLINE forged a relationship with Northeastern University’s Civil Rights and Restorative Justice Project (CRRJ), bringing them on as an academic partner. Launched in 2007 by Distinguished Law Professor Margaret Burnham, CRRJ is a mission-driven program of interdisciplinary teaching, research and policy analysis on race, history, and criminal justice. Their work has expanded beyond the names on the Justice Department’s list, archiving documents in over 1,000 cases of racially motivated homicides.

With support from the CRRJ, FRONTLINE reporters gathered what could be known about the individuals on the list, conducting interviews with family, friends and witnesses, delving into newspaper archives and gathering documentation including headstone applications, draft cards and archival photographs.

At the heart of the project has been a drive to center the voices of the families of those on the list. FRONTLINE partnered with StoryCorps to record nearly two dozen oral histories with victims’ next of kin, which are featured both in the web-based interactive and traveling AR exhibit. These oral histories will also be archived in the National Library of Congress.

To lead the creative vision for the web experience and installation, FRONTLINE partnered with Ado Ato Pictures, a premier mixed reality studio founded by artist, filmmaker, and technologist Tamara Shogaolu.

Shogaolu rooted the visuals in the powerful symbolism of trees. In the United States, trees evoke the ideal of liberty, but also speak to an oppressive history of racially motivated violence. In Persian myth, trees are humanity’s ancestors, while in Toraja, Indonesia, they serve as sacred burial sites.

“I was really inspired by looking at the role of the tree as a symbol in American history” Shogaolu said. “It’s been looked at as a symbol of freedom, we look at it as a connector between generations, and also there’s the association of trees with racial terror.” When designing the creative vision for Un(re)solved Shogaolu wondered whether she might be able to reclaim the symbol of the tree. “As a person of color, we’re often terrified of being in isolated places in the woods. And I thought it was kind of crazy that there are natural environments that instinctually give great fear because of this connection with racial terror and I wanted to reclaim that — to turn these into beautiful spaces.”

Un(re)solved weaves imagery of trees, which also recall family ties, into patterns and textures from the American tradition of quilting. Among enslaved African Americans forbidden to read or write, quilts provided an important space to document family stories. Today, quilting remains a creative outlet rich with story and tradition for many American communities.

We invite you to enter this forest of quilted memories — a testimony to the lives of these individuals, and the multi-generational impact of their untimely, unjust loss.

(Credits to come)